


Icicle

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But it's not super angsty, Doctor Niall, For Me, Harry gets skewered by an icicle, Homeless Harry, Homelessness, M/M, Reference To Impalement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:43:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: Harry has a run in with a lamp, an icicle, and a really cute doctor.





	

He’s going to be late. That’s the only thing that Harry can really think at the moment. There’s a lot of things going on, the loud wailing of the ambulance and the paramedic talking really loudly at him and there’s a giant fucking spear of ice in his hip and he can’t even see out of his left eye because there’s too much blood, but all Harry can think about is that he’s not going to make it on time for his interview.

It seems like a very mundane thought to be having when you’ve been impaled, but it’s all that’s coming to mind. He’s never going to make it on time to his interview. Hell, he can’t go to the interview at all with these literally bloody clothes on, which means he’ll have to go to the charity shop and spend more money that he doesn’t really have to replace them.

He barely notices as they take him out of the ambulance, too caught up in trying to figure out how many meals he’s going to have to skip in order to buy a new pair of trousers and a shirt that aren’t tattered and covered in blood. 

In fact, he doesn’t notice much of anything happening around him until there’s a bright light shining in his eyes and a thick Irish accent saying, “He’s in shock.”

Harry blinks away the spots hovering in his eyes until his vision clears enough to see a very pretty blond man in white staring at him with a concerned frown and a halo floating around his head.

Before he can even stop himself, he asks, “Are you an angel? Am I dead? Did I really die because I ran into a lamppost? That’s such a ‘me’ way to die.”

“You’re not dead.” the blond chuckles, brushing the question off like it’s something he hears all the time. “You’re at the hospital. Can you tell me your name and what year it is?”

“Harry Styles and it’s twenty-sixteen.” Harry tells him.

“Good.” the blond nods, jotting something down on a clipboard. “You don’t seem to be suffering any major brain damage, which means my main concern at the moment is stopping the bleeding above your eye, and then getting this thing here, out.”

“This is your main concern?” Harry questions, pointing to his left eyebrow. “I have a big arse piece of ice in my gut, and this is your main concern?”

“I’m not going to stitch it right now.” the blond says, grabbing a square of gauze and pressing it hard to Harry’s forehead. “I’m just going to make it stop gushing into your eye so I don’t have to worry about you thrashing around because blood squirted in your eye. Then I can focus on the big arse piece of ice.”

“How many of those is it going to take?” Harry asks after the doctor, Niall Horan, according to the badge with the blond’s pretty picture on it, presses a third bundle of gauze to the cut.

“This should be it.” Niall tells him with an easy smile. “The first one was mostly for cleanup, and the second one was to apply pressure and subdue the bleeding. This one is just making sure the job is done, and I’ll get that fixed into place like this-”

He keeps his right hand on the gauze while taking the left away to tear off a piece of tape before stretching it over the gauze, and adds, “That should hold it until I can get a better fix on it. Now, let’s get you comfortable, because this is going to get really unpleasant, really fast.”

“It’s pretty fucking unpleasant now.” Harry mutters. And it is. It really fucking is. There’s a big fucking piece of ice inside of him, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed by him. It’s just that- It’s hard to feel it when Niall is so calm and collected and easy about this whole fucking thing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty eyes?” Niall asks, staring directly into them.

Harry’s only response to that question is a loud gasp as pain tears through him when Niall rips the icicle out without any notice. He fists his hands in the paper sheet of the A&E bed and bites back a scream, before passing out as he hears Niall yell, “Get me a clear operating room! Now!”

 

“Oh, good. You’re awake again.” says a thick accent that sounds both familiar and foreign to Harry’s ears. “Let’s hope it’s for real this time.”

“What happened?” Harry asks groggily, trying to get his bearings once the fluorescent lighting stops stabbing at his eyes so harshly.

“Do you remember where you are?” the voice asks.

“Hospital.” Harry croaks out, looking over to find the same doctor from before.

“Excellent.” Niall nods. “Looks like you’re finally coming out of it. I never properly introduced myself. I’m-”

“Doctor Niall Horan.” Harry finishes for him. “The arsehole who tried to distract me by flirting before you nearly killed me.”

“It’s easier if you don’t know that it’s coming.” Niall explains. “If you had, you’d have tensed up and made it worse. My method was the impalement equivalent of ripping off the plaster. I just didn’t expect it to be in so deep. There was about this much inside of you-”

He holds up his hand, putting his finger and thumb almost four inches apart and Harry nearly faints again.

“It perforated your large intestine, so you passing out from the pain was probably a good thing for you, because you really did not want to know what was happening to you right then.” Niall hums.

“Do I want to know now?” Harry asks cautiously.

“Let’s just say that you were literally full of shite for a little while.” Niall says with a grimace. “Sorry, that was a really crude way of putting it.”

“But you fixed it, right?” Harry asks worriedly. “Like- It’s not still floating around in there or anything, right?”

“Well, a few other people helped, but, yeah, it’s fixed.” Niall nods. “Spent a good half an hour flushing your gut with saline to make sure everything was out.”

“How late is it?” Harry grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I need to go. I have an interview, and the store closes at nine.”

“Then they closed approximately six hours ago.” Niall says, looking at the watch on his wrist. “So you should let me finish my exam, then go to sleep again and worry about that tomorrow when your risk of infection from an icicle stabbing your colon has dropped to more acceptable levels.”

“I thought you said that you cleaned it out?” Harry groans.

“I’m more concerned about the dirty icicle, at the moment.” Niall tells him. “You ran into a lamppost hard enough to shake it loose and fall to stab you when you fell too, yes? In the time it took for them to get to you, to bring you here, and for me to remove it, it would have been melting inside of you, and it probably wasn’t very sanitary, considering it’s London. I’m worried about things that may have gotten into your blood, including particles of rust, which could expose you to tetanus.”

Harry, though- Harry is less worried about tetanus, and more worried about what the friend he left his backpack of things with is going to do with them. He was supposed to get them back no later than ten, and Louis isn’t exactly the most patient or forgiving person in the world. Harry needs to get to his flat as soon as possible.

“I can see exactly what’s going through your head right now, and I can already tell you that leaving is a terrible idea.” Niall says flatly. “Stay until morning. Take a warm shower and eat a free meal. We’ve got donation boxes with clothes, and some of those should be able to replace the things that got ruined. Not to mention- You just had surgery, Harry. Let your body at least start to heal from the trauma.”

“What the hell do you think you know?” Harry scoffs, wincing when the motion causes his hip to flare up in pain.

“I think you live in a shelter.” Niall says softly. “The only things in your wallet were an ID with an address in Cheshire, a few small notes, and a couple of cards for LGBT shelters in the area. Your fingernails are trimmed, but your toenails aren’t. You’ve got incredibly callused hands and feet. You have split ends everywhere, but you try and maintain your appearance, which tells me that you don’t have the money to spend on something like a haircut. 

“Also- You told me you were homeless the last few times you woke up, and after you gave me his number, I called your friend Louis and he dropped off your backpack. I put it in my cupboard downstairs to make sure it was safe until you woke up completely. And so that you didn’t try to just run off without paying any attention to medical advice.”

“Oh.” Harry says, feeling his cheeks enflame.

“Morphine is powerful stuff.” Niall says with a shrug. “I’ve taken the liberty of running a blood panel on you, to eliminate the question of tetanus, along with any communicable diseases, diabetes, and other things.”

“Wait- Communicable diseases? You think I’m a hustler?” Harry squeaks out.

“I think I’ve seen a lot of boys in your situation come through here, and a lot of them turn to certain things.” Niall says quietly.

“I’m not a hustler!” Harry growls out. “I’m a busker! The only street corners I frequent are the ones that I sing on!”

“I wasn’t judging you, Harry.” Niall tells him. “If you’ve ever had sex, then getting tested is a good idea. This is more expansive than your standard quick-test, and it’s not going to cost you anything.”

“Oh god, the bill.” Harry sighs.

“No bill.” Niall says, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to do a lot of paperwork, but I’ve spent the last day calling in favors to get everything done pro-bono for you.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

“Maybe I’ll tell you when you wake up.” Niall hums, gripping onto a button attached to a long cord that goes into a box on a pole by Harry’s bed. There’s a frigid chill that runs through his arm for a moment, and then his entire body starts to feel warm and heavy. “Sleep well, Harry.”

“I don’t like you.” Harry slurs out as his eyelids get too heavy for him to hold them up anymore.

“That’s okay. I’ll see you when you wake up.” Niall says just before Harry slips into sleep.

 

Despite Niall’s final words to Harry before he fell asleep, he still hasn’t even made an appearance in Harry’s room by noon. A few nurses have come in and out, and a random group of doctors making their rounds nearly exposed his dick taking a look at his surgery site, but nobody else.

He didn’t expect his family, of course. He knew that that ship sailed a long time ago. And he didn’t really expect Louis to come by either. Louis has three different jobs that he works as often as he can, so visiting Harry isn’t really in the cards. And, well- Harry’s fingers itch with the urge to call Liam, but that relationship didn’t end well for Harry.

Harry doesn’t really want him here anyways. He just wants to not be alone. But even that isn’t going to send him running back to his ex. His ex who never believed in him, in the future he dreams of for himself. Loneliness is nothing compared to suffocating, and, as much as Liam loved him, Harry could never breathe in that relationship.

So Harry spends his time watching shitty daytime telly and getting an endless string of meals delivered to his room, not because the food is good, but because he keeps feeling like he can’t get enough to eat. The room service people must hate him.

“You look like you’re about to jump out of that window you’re so bored.” chuckles a voice that Harry is annoyed to find himself becoming familiar with. Niall is leaning against the doorframe, an easy smile on his face and normal clothes on his body instead of scrubs or a lab-coat like yesterday. He looks good in blue, Harry notes before Niall adds, “Sorry it took me so long to get here. My attending saw how late I stayed last night, and she made me take the morning off. We’re on a shift limit at the moment, which means I can only have so many hours a week.”

“I didn’t notice.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

“Ouch, Harry.” Niall snorts. “That hurts.”

“You’re in a hospital.” Harry says flatly. “Go find someone who can make it better.”

“Now, if you keep being mean to me, I’m not going to share the meal I brought.” Niall hums, holding up a bag with a very distinctive ‘M’ on it. As soon as he does, the smell reaches Harry, and his mouth begins to water. “Then again, I see you’ve already eaten today. A few times. Maybe you don’t want any.”

“Come in.” Harry sighs. “But I’m watching ‘Escape to the Country’, and you don’t get a say.”

“At least it’s not ‘Jeremy Kyle’.” Niall says with a shrug, walking in and taking a seat in the chair next to Harry’s bed. “I’d be more concerned about that blow to the head if it were. I just got some burgers and some salads. I had them put all the burger toppings on the side, because I didn’t know what you’d like, or if you even eat meat.”

“Being a homeless vegetarian would just be like kicking yourself in the head.” Harry scoffs. “Ethical eating is for people who are sure they’re going to have a roof over their head every night. When you live on the streets, you don’t have the privilege of being picky.”

“Sorry.” Niall mumbles, pulling out a couple of containers and setting them on Harry’s tray.

“It’s fine.” Harry waves him off. “You weren’t being insensitive or anything. Just not a very practical mindset.”

“I was also concerned about allergies.” Niall says with a shrug. “You told me at one point yesterday that you didn’t have any, but you were pretty high on your meds, so I wanted to play it safe.”

“I don’t have any food allergies.” Harry confirms. “Or any medicinal ones, as far as I know.”

“Well, that’s good.” Niall nods. “That means my attending can order the stronger antibiotics for you, since we were playing it safe with those as well.”

“So does that mean you aren’t even my doctor?” Harry asks.

“Just in the A-and-E.” Niall explains. “I’m not the doctor on record for anything else. I’m still a couple years out from finishing my training, so you’re registered under my boss.”

“If I’m not even your patient, why are you so determined to take care of me?” Harry asks. “Why are you cashing in favors for me and bringing me food and checking in on me?”

“Because- Because I want you to be okay.” Niall says quietly. “I just hate seeing boys like you come through here, when you already have it so rough, and then things get that much harder for you.”

“I don’t need you pitying me, Doctor Horan.” Harry grunts out. “I don’t need you to be some knight in a shining lab-coat, trying to save me. I don’t care what kind of thrill it gives you to help out some street-kid, but you need to stop.”

“That’s not what it is.” Niall says firmly. “It’s not like- guilt or anything. I’m not trying to save you. I’m just- I’m just trying to do what doctors do. I’m trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t want or need your help.” Harry mutters. “I just want you to go. And take this food with you. I don’t want to owe you anything, even a ninety-nine p burger.”

“Alright.” Niall mumbles, putting everything back in his bag and walking out of the room without another word, and, the thing is, Harry can’t figure out why he just did that. He doesn’t have a damn clue.

 

“I heard you’re being discharged tomorrow morning.” says a quiet voice from the door. After two days straight of barely having the same person ever come to his room, it’s almost a relief to hear a voice that Harry actually recognizes, even if he was trying to sleep. “You shouldn’t be leaving yet.”

“I have to get back out there and find a job to replace the one that I lost when I skewered myself.” Harry mutters, keeping his eyes closed. “Busking isn’t a winter job.”

“I know you said you don’t want my help anymore, but-” Niall starts before suddenly clamping his mouth shut and sighing. “Never mind. I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to drop off your backpack before you were discharged. Bye, Harry.”

“What were you going to say?” Harry asks reluctantly, peeking one eye open.

“It doesn’t matter, and I don’t feel like getting yelled at again for trying to help.” Niall says quietly.

“Oh my god, just spit it out already.” Harry groans, rolling onto his back and looking at Niall.

“You’re lying in a job factory, Harry.” Niall points out. “This hospital employs over a thousand people, and they’re always looking for more workers.”

“I don’t have any higher education.” Harry mumbles.

“You don’t need a degree for every job here.” Niall says with a shrug. “There’s assistants, call-center representatives, data entry, patient transportation, equipment managers, cooks, environmental services, maintenance, and patient care technicians. And those are just the ones I can think of. There’s probably more.”

“Finding a job isn’t the only problem.” Harry says quietly. “I was going to give them Louis’ address, but he’s moving to a new flat. Nobody is going to hire me without an address. That’s why I was in such a rush the other day.”

“I have a couch, Harry.” Niall says softly. “You could stay with me until you get on your feet. If you go for that last one I told you about, the patient care tech- It pays really well, and you only have to work three days a week. They’re twelve hour shifts, but that would still give you four days a week to go out and try and get discovered.”

“You don’t know me, Niall.” Harry sighs. “Why would you offer me your couch, or to help me find a job? Why would you keep sticking your neck under the axe for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Niall asks back.

“Because that’s not the way the world works!” Harry hisses. “People aren’t just- Good! Everybody wants something! Money, sex, control, advancement- Everybody wants something in exchange for what they give.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Harry.” Niall says adamantly. “I don’t even want a ‘thank you’. Maybe the people you’ve surrounded yourself with haven’t always been the best, but that doesn’t mean that everyone is like that.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry says, shaking his head.

“Harry, I specifically explained to you that everything you’ve gotten done here has been free.” Niall points out, stepping into the room. “My ethics wouldn’t allow me to sleep with a patient. I have no interest in controlling you. If you choose to sleep on my couch, then you can come and go as you please, as long as you don’t steal anything or bring strangers over, because I work long hours and I don’t need to be kept awake by you shagging in the other room. And, trust me, pulling a bunch of favors to keep someone from paying us isn’t doing anything for my career advancement.”

“You’ve done all this, and you don’t even want to fuck me?” Harry asks incredulously. “Then what was that comment about my eyes down in the A-and-E?”

“I mean- I didn’t say I don’t think you’re attractive.” Niall says with yet another shrug that makes Harry want to tear his hair out. “I said that my ethics wouldn’t allow me to fuck a patient. Maybe a few months down the line, if you’re interested and free, and I’m interested and free- Something could potentially happen. But there’s no obligation there. I didn’t do any of this because I want us to blow each other. I don’t want anything from you. I mean that.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Harry asks him.

“Because I could see in your eyes when you came in that you’re a good person, but- But you don’t believe that good people exist.” Niall says softly. “They do, Harry. I’m not a saint by any standards, but I believe that people are basically good. I believe that you’re good, and I don’t want the world running roughshod over you for that.”

“But why do you care?” Harry asks. “Why do you care what happens to some homeless bloke you don’t even know?”

“Because I want to know you.” Niall murmurs. “I want to know the bloke who decides that an icicle through the gut is ‘such a ‘me’ way to die’.”

“It’s hard to believe that, considering you thought I was a hustler when you did all this.” Harry mutters.

“I thought you were a hustler because you kept saying some of the raunchiest things I have ever heard in my life, while you were under the influence of morphine.” Niall snorts. “I had to send the nurses away at a few points, because you wouldn’t stop, even for their sakes. You’ve got a filthy mouth, Harry Styles.”

“Oh god.” Harry groans, covering his eyes. He’s starting to wish that that damned icicle had finished the job.

“And, just for the record, I started working on the pro-bono stuff while you were actually in surgery.” Niall adds. “That was before I thought you were a hustler.”

“How bad was it?” Harry asks, peeking out through his fingers.

“Let’s just say, I don’t blush easily, and I thought my face was going to burn off.” Niall chuckles. “But you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Sexual attraction is perfectly healthy in a young man your age.”

“Can you not say it like that?” Harry whines, knowing full well he sounds even more childish. “Feels like I’m getting ‘the talk’. Like you’re getting ready to give me a lecture on sex or something.”

“I doubt there’s anything I could possibly have to teach you about sex with the way you talk.” Niall hums.

“I guess we could find out in a few months or so, if you’re interested and free, and I’m interested and free.” Harry says with a bright blush. “You know- When I’m just an ex-patient, and your ethics wouldn’t get in the way.”

“For now, why don’t you focus on getting better, and I’ll bring by some applications for jobs here in the hospital, so you can look over them and see what interests you?” Niall offers. “You’ll need to stay here for another day though, because I don’t have tomorrow off, so I can’t really move you in and get you situated until the day after.”

“You’re being too nice to me.” Harry mutters. “You already know I don’t have anything to give you.”

“I mean- Once you start getting paid, it would be nice if you chipped in for some of the electricity and whatnot, but I already told you that I don’t want anything from you.” Niall points out. “Multiple times, actually.”

“I can cook.” Harry says quietly. “And I don’t make much mess. You won’t barely know I’m there. I’ll be out as soon as I can, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about it, and you can stay as long as you need to.” Niall shrugs, easy as ever, and Harry is either annoyed with it, or infatuated by it, and it’s getting hard to tell. “I mean- You may want to run as soon as possible, because I’m kind of anal about how clean things are, and I sing in the shower, and I get pretty riled up at any sport from rugby to golf. I’m not an easy flatmate. It’s your decision when you move out, though, as long as you aren’t like- A total wanker and break all the rules and shite.”

“If you’re talking about the whole ‘no pulling and bringing them to the flat’ thing, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that.” Harry mumbles. “I think- I think I want to be sure I’m free in a few months, whenever that comes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Niall hums, lifting himself off the corner of the bed. “Have a good night, Harry. I’ll be by with those applications in the morning, so don’t go and do anything stupid, like leaving against medical advice.”

Harry doesn’t really plan on it. There’s the possibility, however farfetched it may seem, that getting impaled by an icicle may have been the best possible thing to happen to him so far in his life, and he’s far too interested in seeing how that turns out.


End file.
